Lilies
by Sorrel
Summary: Sometimes a basket of lilies is just a basket of lilies. And sometimes it's not. Futurefic, ClarkLex SLASH.


**Lilies.

* * *

**

Clark suspected that something weird was going on when he tripped over a basket full of lilies just outside his apartment, but only because he hadn't had someone to send him flowers for years. Not since… Yeah.

Celibacy was working out quite nicely for him, thankyouverymuch.

There was no note, not even a florist's card. None of his neighbors had seen the person who left it, and Clark had been in the shower, with his hearing very deliberately turned off. Clark carried it back into his apartment, set it down on the kitchen counter, and stared at it for a bit. When this didn't yield any answers, he gave a shrug and made sure that they had adequate moisture to last the day before he left.

If he didn't hurry, he was going to be late for work.

* * *

His day was blissfully normal- for him, anyway. Anyone else might have been disconcerted by the shouting and the keyboard clatter and the smell of coffee and the people rushing around. To anyone but a journalist, the interior of the Daily Planet was a confused mess of chaos that didn't look organized even after a second or third glance. To Clark, it was home. 

He and Lois bounced ideas off each other in between furious bouts of typing and note-taking and exhaustive sessions on the phone. They knew, from the ease of long practice, who would respond better whom, and they split any potential list in a matter of minutes and set to work.

Over lunch, he and Lois sat across from each other in the Planet cafeteria, Clark chowing down on a huge burger with all the extras, and Lois glaring at him hatefully as she listlessly picked through her salad. Clark kept trying to tell her that she didn't need to diet like this, that with the number of leads she very literally ran down, she was set for life, but she always just set her mouth stubbornly and if he persisted, she would lift her chin in the way that meant battle and Clark would hastily back off. It didn't stop her from hating the fact that he ate whatever he wanted and to hell with any idea of diets or, you know, basic health, but Clark was used to her glares and it didn't affect him at all.

"Lilies, Lois," he repeated, after swallowing a large bite. "Who the hell knows that I like lilies?"

"Besides me?" Lois asked, chewing thoughtfully on a stubborn piece of lettuce. Lois would probably be happier with her salads if she got them somewhere but the Planet cafeteria, but Lois was nothing if not stubborn. "And your mother? And my cousin?"

Clark could think of another name to add to that list, too, but he sure as hell wasn't going to say it out loud. Lois knew, anyway, had been around for it all, but neither of them were going to say anything. Some subjects were just too painful, even for them.

"Point taken," he conceded. "But Chloe's out of town, Mom would grow her own, and unless you've suddenly developed a crush-"

"As if," Lois said, pegging him on the forehead with a crouton. He flicks it back her direction when it hits the table and wipes away the tiny smear of dressing from the bridge of his nose.

"-then it's not someone I know," Clark concluded, as if the little interlude hadn't occurred. Clark didn't think about the fourth person who knew Clark loved lilies more than any other flower, because it couldn't be him. And since it couldn't really be him, Clark didn't like to think about it. It hurt too much.

Lois might not have agreed- he could tell by the tiny frown lines around her eyes- but she knew how to play along. It was one of the things he liked best about her.

"Well, bring me by your place tonight when we're done, and I'll investigate this mysterious flower basket," Lois said. "Maybe I can find a clue."

"Sure thing, Velma," Clark said, finishing his burger with one last, huge bite. Lois glared at him.

"Clark, take that back! I don't look like that-"

"Would you rather be Daphne?" Clark enquired. A quick investigation of Lois' tray revealed a pudding cup and plastic spoon. He pointed. "May I?"

"Knock yourself out, I don't want the calories," Lois said. "Fine, I can deal with Velma. She at least had brains."

"And those glasses were so cute," Clark said, opening the pudding cup, and this time had the foresight to duck when she threw another piece of her salad at him- a mushroom, this time. Clark heard it land on the floor behind him with a tiny splat, and was just grateful it didn't hit anyone else in the head like it had that one time.

Though Lois had actually blushed over that incident, so it was a pretty fond memory for Clark.

"So we're on for tonight?" Clark said, dipping the spoon into the pudding cup. "I wasn't sure you'd got everything set up."

"Of course I did, Clark," Lois chastised. "Don't I always? Have a little faith."

"Whatever," Clark said, around the spoon. He pulled it out of his mouth with a pop and went for another spoonful. Mmm, vanilla. "Same place?"

"You know it," she said.

"I'll come by when I'm done," Clark said. All very vaguely worded, nothing incriminating here. Not that anyone would dare listen. Lois scared everyone but Perry White and Clark himself. Jimmy had a crush on her the size of Texas, but that didn't mean he wasn't terrified of her. Lois approved, as this was the proper way of things in her Metropolitan little heart, and Clark just thought the whole thing was hilarious.

"As usual," she said dryly, then gave up on her salad with one last poke of her plastic fork and pushed it away from her. "Okay, I can't eat that anymore."

Clark gave her the innocent look and then ate one last heaping spoonful of pudding. She glared at him, and he smiled angelically around the plastic spoon.

He deliberately didn't think about the lilies.

* * *

Four hours later Clark Kent's official workday ended, and Superman's began. Clark spent about two hours on patrol, stopping crime and, God help him, rescuing kittens from trees. Clark cringed at the memory, but every time Clark remembered hovering next to the tree branch and carefully picking up the little feline, he also remembered the grateful look on the owner's face and the awe and delight on the little girl's face when nestled the tiny animal into her arms. "Thanks, Superman!" the girl had said, and maybe it wasn't saving the world, but there were so many different ways to help people, and Clark liked to do his best wherever he could. 

By the time the sun set Clark was bored (crime was slow these days, and it made Clark smile to think that he was the why and then frown when he remembered the one empire he couldn't crumble, the one bad guy he couldn't defeat) and so he didn't mind going straight back to the Planet. He didn't like being left alone in his own thoughts anyway, not after… Well. Lois was always good for a distraction, and Lois would be finished working now and waiting for him, if he was lucky, and if she wasn't then next time she had an interview in Edge City, she could get on a fucking plane like everyone else.

She was waiting for him, though, and he didn't bother to land and chat, just scooped her up and took off into the sky. She didn't squawk at him like she used to, since she was long used to this treatment by now, and anyway she understood the reasoning behind it. People already thought that Lois was Superman's girlfriend, and while nothing was further from the truth, Clark had no desire to encourage the rumors. So, fast pickups, and he prayed daily that no one noticed them.

He also prayed that no one ever questioned how Lois got interviews all over the country without ever paying for a plane ticket, which is why he hadn't wanted to start doing this in the first place. But she had a way of persuading people of doing things that weren't exactly sane and rational, and more importantly, she was his partner. Her stories were his as well, though it wasn't Clark Kent who accompanied her through the mean streets of Edge City.

He landed on the roof of an abandoned warehouse, out in the industrial district, and started his transformation. Lois tapped her toe impatiently, but she was grinning and so was he as he dressed slowly, just to spite her.

The boots and cape were stashed away in Lois' briefcase, out of sight, and out came his other costume, the one she'd taken out of his locker room at the Planet and carried for him. Black boots, giving him an unneeded inch or two of height but mostly for scare, blue jeans that clung to the muscles in his legs. Black turtleneck, because there was no risk of it slipping and exposing the blue spandex underneath, and a severely scuffed black leather jacket that hung just past his hips and made his shoulders look even wilder. For a final touch he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, and the gel that had kept it so neatly slicked back worked now to force it to fall in messy, wild waves around his face. The glasses were long gone, of course, and when Clark looked up again, his eyes were his natural green, and his face seemed more angled and dangerous than Clark's face, the way that Superman looked more square and trustworthy.

"Let's go," Clark said, and his voice was a little faster, a little sharper. Superman's voice was low and deep, imposing rather than terrifying, but Clark was going for a different effect now.

They took a cab to the uptown district of Edge City, Clark sitting relaxed but alert next to his partner. When they got to the building, Clark stayed one pace behind her and to the right, looking menacing with absolutely no effort at all, and a single burning glance was enough to convince the security guard to let them in.

"I never get tired of that," Lois said, as they walked down the echoing halls towards the elevator. Her heels clicked loudly on the tile, while his boots made only a soft, padding _thunk_, no echo to the footsteps of his longer strides.

"Glad I can help," Clark said. And he was. Lois was better at interviewing people like her current target, but in Edge City and to some extent, in any major city in Kansas, Clark made a good ticket in.

Morgan Edge knew his weakness, but he also knew what Clark was really capable of. And so in Edge City, Morgan's kingdom just like Metropolis had once belonged to Lionel and now belonged to someone far stronger, Kal was… very well known. It got him in, when he was dressed like this, when he acted the bodyguard to Lois Lane, when he reminded people with a single green glance that he was the most dangerous motherfucker around, and in return he left Morgan Edge alone. Edge City wasn't his concern, anyway. It wasn't his home, it wasn't his den of iniquity to cleanse. He and Morgan understood each other, perhaps better than Clark was truly comfortable with, but in the end it didn't really matter. Morgan Edge was his past, was a mistake in his teens, a mistake whose consequences happened to be useful in his present life.

Once they were in the elevator, Clark dropped the act. His shoulders dropped back down, his back relaxed, his loosely held fists uncurled, and his face softened as he let go of the angry mask. There was no point in attempting to be Kal in this office, in this building, because the person they were coming to see knew better. He had his own reasons not to tell, much like Morgan did, but his reasons had nothing to do with a fear of Clark and everything to do with someone far more frightening.

It hurt to reach out and press the elevator button, labeled "P" for penthouse. Hurt him deep inside, like the blade that could never truly cut his flesh, and when he accidentally let his gaze stray to the elevator doors, he closed his eyes in defense at the purple and black logo that he saw there.

Lucas was waiting for them behind his desk, his hands folded and smirking at them. The pose was a perfect parody of someone else, and it always made Clark a little sick to his stomach, but that wasn't Lucas' fault. Much. Lucas knew what he was doing, but it was Clark's weakness, no less debilitating that Kryptonite in its way, but Clark could, would, and did work through this. There was no working through Kryptonite.

Lucas didn't cause this weakness, but he did take advantage of it, when Clark let him. Which was almost never. Lucas was a good mimic, but he wasn't the real thing, and Clark had fenced with the best.

Clark didn't have to fence with him today, though. Today he was strictly backup; Lois was the interrogator. Excuse me, investigative journalist.

That didn't stop Lucas from trying to draw him in, though. "It's always good to see you, Mr… Kent," Lucas said, deliberately hesitating over his last name. "It's been a long time."

"Not that long," Lois said. "We were here just two months ago over the chemical dumping fiasco." She gave a sweet smile, the one that showed all her teeth and made anyone with sense very, very afraid. "Care to leave a comment on the new developments, Mr. Luthor?"

"Now, Lois," Lucas started.

"Ms. Lane, if you please."

"Ms. Lane," Lucas agreed, his voice impossibly patronizing. "There are changes being made in our company…"

Clark tuned him out, since Lucas never said anything worth listening to. It was all smooth lies and evasions, and sometimes Lois could pin him down, and sometimes she couldn't. Either way, Lucas always seemed like a cheap knockoff of the real thing, and Clark had no desire to watch him.

Then it was over, Lois and Lucas both pushing their chairs back with loud scraping noises, and Clark absently followed suit. Lucas was grinning a shark-like grin, and Lois had a similar expression though more secretive, which meant that they'd probably ended it in a draw.

"It was delightful talking to you, Ms. Lane," Lucas said, his voice dark with satisfaction. "I'm looking forward to seeing your article in the _Daily Planet._"

"I'm sure you are," she said dryly, but she shook his hand when he extended it, which meant that he must not have been _too_ much of a sleaze. When he really came on too strong, Lois always flat-out refused to touch him.

Lucas turned to Clark, hand outstretched, when Lois let him go. Clark stared at the hand like it was a poisonous bug.

"Oh come on, Clark," Lucas said, at his oiliest. "We're family, after all."

Clark shook his head. "You're not my family, Lucas." He turned his back, made for the door. "Lois, let's go."

Lois followed right on his heels, having known him long enough to know how badly Lucas could get to him. They almost made it out when Lucas called out, "Oh, Clark?"

Clark's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't stop.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Lucas said softly, but Clark didn't let himself turn around, didn't let himself ask what Lucas meant. Lucas was good, but Clark had learned from the master, and he knew that the only way to walk away unscathed was to walk away now.

The cab ride back to the warehouse was silent, Lois watching him out of the corners of her eyes, concerned but knowing how much he hated it when she stared. He didn't change slowly this time, didn't laugh with her and tease, just blurred back into his uniform, and within seconds he'd carefully lifted her into his arms and was gone into the night sky.

He flew them straight back to his building, rather than the Daily Planet. Lois rested her cheek against his chest and he let himself be soothed by the nearness of his very best friend to his heart.

The LexCorp tower speared dark against the city lights, but Clark ignored it as it taunted him the entire way home.

* * *

Lois was completely at home in Clark's kitchen. In all of his apartment, in fact, which was way larger than hers, something she griped about constantly. He was used to the teasing, and usually it didn't bother him, but sometimes it did because it wasn't like he was paying rent. The deed was in his name after all, but he couldn't bear to lease out this apartment like all the others, couldn't give up the memories even as they hurt. He hadn't always been on the reporter's salary that Lois always bitched about, but she had been his friend for years, and she knew when not to press. He was feeling raw and off-balance from the conversation with Lucas, and so Lois didn't press. She let go of her usual teasing routine, just headed to the kitchen when he pointed and started examining the basket of lilies while he neatly hung up his coat on the hook in the foyer. 

"My God, Clark, it's so big!" she exclaimed, as he came into the room. She shot him a grin over her shoulder, and somewhere in him, he found it in him to grin back.

"Yeah, well. I guess I'm just gifted. Not all guys have flower baskets this big, huh?"

"Hopeless, Kent," she said, shaking her head as she carried the basket over to the table and sat down. "You're hopeless."

He sat down across from her and watched as she poked through the basket. He noticed that she was very careful not to manhandle the lilies, to break any fragile stems or crush even more fragile petals, but handled them gently like they deserved. He didn't know if it was because she respected that they were his favorite flower or- something else. Like she knew what they really meant. But he wasn't going to think about that, was he?

He got up and grabbed a beer out of the fridge before he sat back down. He couldn't get drunk, couldn't even get a buzz no matter how much alcohol he drank, but he liked beer, and drinking it was a familiar routine that helped relax him. Tonight, he needed all the relaxation he could get.

His kitchen helped with that. It was painted a cheery yellow, just like Mom's kitchen back in Smallville. He remembered when it had been decorated, the planning that had gone into it, state-of-the-art appliances balanced with the illusion of familiarity, until the illusion was gone and it was just His Kitchen. He always had been the better cook, anyway.

Lois was looking at him again. He ignored her and drained his beer, considering getting up to get another, but it would break the fragile silence that is stretched in the room right now, and he wants to put that off as long as possible.

This used to be a happy home. Not just his home, but a shared home. There had been someone in his life, the most important someone ever, and the lack hurt more than Kryptonite ever would. Eventually Kryptonite was either taken away or it would kill him, and so that pain, the physical pain, didn't last forever. This did. He was aware of it with every breath he took, no matter how much he might pretend otherwise. Every waking moment was filled with it. And there were only waking moments in Clark's life.

He hadn't slept in five years. He couldn't face the thought of the dreams.

"Clark," Lois said. "You know, eventually, one of you is going to break."

"I know," Clark said sadly. He still wouldn't look at her, or the damned basket of lilies. Instead he was staring out the window. They'd made sure that he would have this particular view, back then. Because it was going to be His Kitchen, and back then, he'd known exactly what he wanted to see every time he looked out the window. "It's going to be me. Eventually."

"No, it's not," Lois said vehemently. "I know you, Clark. You've made it this far, haven't you?"

"Five years, Lois," Clark said quietly. "I've only made it five years."

"That's a long damn time," Lois said.

"It's nothing," Clark said. "I have centuries. So does he."

"He sent you flowers, Clark," Lois said.

"It wasn't necessarily him," Clark protested.

"It was him," Lois said. Her voice was low and determined. "Clark, you said it yourself. There are only four people who know you like lilies. Me. Chloe. Your mom." Her pause spun out painfully between them, like an aching tooth. She pulled it. "And Lex Luthor. Your husband."

"Ex-husband," Clark corrected, out of long habit with Lois. Now that his name has been said, the acid pain he'd been battling all day eased a little, just like always. But only a little. "We haven't been married for five years, which is a long damn time, according to you."

"Yeah, well, shows what I know," Lois said. "Seriously, Clark. You are a fabulous reporter, and the best partner I've ever had or ever will have. You're also my best friend and I love you. But you don't want to be here and we both know it."

"I can't give in," Clark said, and hated the weakness in his voice. "I can't, Lois. I can't give in to him."

She sighed and reached out, resting one nail-bitten hand on his shoulder. He couldn't turn his head, couldn't look away from the spear of the LexCorp building, a glittering monument against the black velvet sky, perfectly framed in his kitchen window. It was the tallest building in Metropolis, he remembered Lex crowing. Much bigger than the LuthorCorp building. Lex had been so damn proud, and Clark had been so happy for him. It wasn't until later that he'd realized the rot under the polished shine of Lex's empire.

"I think it's different this time," Lois said. "I think things are changing."

Clark finally looked over at her, his eyes sharp and hot. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, but she didn't flinch under the intensity of his regard.

"Didn't you hear what Lucas was saying?" Lois said. "Making big changes, he said. Starting at the top."

"Yeah, and?" Clark said impatiently. Big changes meant nothing. Lex changed all the time, it was what allowed him to survive.

"_And,_ you obviously don't pay attention to news when you're not making it or writing it, or you'd have seen all the headlines screaming about the sweeping _reforms_ in LexCorp."

Clark froze. "Reforms?" he asked, afraid to hope. "What kind of reforms?"

"Ethical, business, environmental, even," Lois said. "All experiments that could be considered morally questionable have ended. Several of LexCorp's main labs have been cut up and parceled out, at a pretty significant loss." She peered at him quizzically. "I thought you were just playing dumb all day about the lilies, but you really didn't know, did you? How could you know not what's happening to a company where you own thirty percent of the stock?"

"It's not like I do anything with it," Clark said defensively. "Lex votes by proxy, it was part of the settlement. I can't even sell them."

"What else did you get in the settlement?" Lois asked. She'd never asked that before, but then, Clark had never given her an opportunity.

"This building," Clark said. "All the rent goes to me."

"So you don't have to work at the Planet," Lois said. "I'd wondered. You act like you have an empty wallet, but those suits of yours are damned expensive."

"I do have to work at the Planet," Clark said. "But not for the paycheck."

She nodded, because she understood. Being Clark Kent, Ace Reporter, gave him something to cling to, an anchor of normalcy that he desperately needed, some days. And Lois, his best friend, was his partner, which didn't hurt either.

"Which all has nothing to do with the point at hand," Lois said briskly. "Things are different this time. Lex is serious this time, Clark."

"He's been serious before," Clark said dismally. "Don't you remember all the stuff he sent me in the first year after the divorce, on our anniversary? He made promises, Lois. I said I'd believe it when I saw it. I never did."

"Those were flashy gifts, Clark," Lois said. "He sent you cars, electronics, jewelry. And yeah, I remember you returning everything. But he didn't make any promises this time, Clark. He just did it on his own."

"I wish I could believe you," Clark said. "I wish I could believe that this time would be different. That if I went back to him, I wouldn't have to fear that he'd discover a way to control me, to use me for his own goals."

She said nothing for a minute. This wasn't new. She knew why he'd left. She just didn't know why Lex had let him. Sometimes Clark didn't either, but those times were few and far between. Because when it came down to it, he'd always known that Lex loved him. It was just that Lex's idea of love was so very frightening.

"How can I trust that this time isn't like all the rest?" Clark said. "How can I trust _him?_"

"Clark," she said softly. "He didn't send you a present. He sent you lilies."

And of course she was right. It was the lilies that made all the difference. The same flowers that Clark had grown in his mother's garden, and had brought to Lex every week for the entire time they'd been married, even in the end, when it got bad. He'd brought them every week, and every week they would go to Lillian's grave, and leave her the bouquet. Clark was thanking her for bringing him the greatest gift he'd ever been given, and Lex, well, Clark had never asked what Lex thought during those visits. But those few minutes, once every week, were the single most unifying part of their relationship, and Clark would never, ever be able to forget that. The smell of lilies would always mean Lex's hand in his, and he couldn't change it even if he wanted to.

He'd known what they meant the moment he'd seen them, but he'd ignored it because he was afraid. What if he believe in Lex, believed that this time was different, and he was wrong? He wasn't sure he could survive it.

He wasn't sure the world could survive it.

He felt Lois hesitate, then heard her let out her breath on a sigh. "And he didn't exactly… _send_ them, Clark."

His head snapped around so that he could stare at her. "What was that?"

"He didn't send them," Lois said. "He brought them here himself." She sighed again, and pulled and envelope out of her jacket pocket. "And then he came to my apartment and told me to give you this tonight."

He reached out slowly, like he was afraid it was going to bite him. But when the tips of his fingers brushed the paper, he felt nothing but very expensive wood pulp, stiff and formal. And on the front was his name.

He took it from Lois, held it in his hands. Distantly he noticed Lois standing up, and giving him an awkward hug around his shoulders, and leaving his apartment, but most of his attention was focused on the thing in his hands. Just an envelope, with what felt like a single sheet of paper inside. Such a small thing to cause such turmoil.

He didn't know how long he sat there before he found the strength to open it and reach inside.

The sight of Lex's handwriting, dark and neat, was a jolt to Clark's heart, which immediately started beating too fast. Childishly, he held his breath even though oxygen deprivation did nothing to him, and started to read.

_Clark,_ it said. Clark could hear Lex's voice in his head, so familiar, even after five years apart. _I don't know why it took me so long to get to this point. But I'm glad I did._

_I should say I'm sorry, only it doesn't feel like it could ever be enough. You were the greatest gift I was ever given, and I would have destroyed you to fulfill my own aims. I know that. Now._

_I'm not trying to ask you to come back, because I know nothing I could ever do could make up enough for what I've put you through. But I want you to know that I've finally changed, Clark. All the times you told me not to be like my father? I've finally learned what that means._

_So no, I'm not asking you to be with me again. Or even really to forgive me, because I know I don't deserve it. I just wanted you to know that things are really different now, and I hope that maybe you might want to hear that. If you do- well, all I ask is some sign. You don't have to tell me yourself, just, if you could find it in yourself to let me know… That would be enough. More than enough. Everything, really._

_You have to know that all of this was for you. That I wanted to lay the world at your feet. Well, I've finally realized that you don't want the world, so I'm trying to be the man you always thought I could be. I'm doing it for you, yes, but I'm also doing it for me. Because I finally did realize, even if it's five years too late, that that is what love really is._

_I love you, Clark. I just wanted you to know that. Even if you never speak to me again, and I fully expect that you won't, everything will be alright in the end as long as you know that._

_Yours, always._

_Lex._

Clark sat and stared at the letter for a long time after he'd finished reading it.

He had a decision to make, a very big one. He could make the gesture that Lex wanted, give him the acknowledgement that he needed, and let that be the end of it.

Only he wasn't sure that it would be the end of it. He was always going to be in love with Lex, and it was always going to be a painful, and it had been such a struggle, these past five years, staying away from Lex. And that was when he knew he had to. Could he do it now, knowing that things were different? If they were really different.

And that was the crux of the matter. He loved Lex, could imagine no other paradise greater than spending the rest of his life in his arms, but he wasn't sure that he could trust that this time was really different. Lex was saying all the right words and doing all the right things and it _seemed_ perfect, but Clark knew better than anyone that things were not always what they seemed. And Lex was such a beautifully brilliant liar.

Lex was the first and only person with whom he had shared _everything,_ every secret, every hope, ever dream, every scrap of love he had in him. And Lex had betrayed that, more than once, and Clark was so afraid that if he trusted Lex now, that Lex would betray him again. And this time, he wouldn't be able to pick up the shattered pieces of his life again. If it happened again he'd never recover.

On the surface the choice seemed so simple- go back to Lex, or not. But it was so much more complicated than that.

It always was.

He stood and went to the window. The LexCorp tower still filled his view, but now it wasn't just a dark shape glittering with lights from the office. There was a very faint light in the sky, and Clark, whose vision was better than anyone, could see someone standing on the roof of the building.

It was Lex. He was looking in the direction of Clark's apartment building, and in his hand was a single white lily.

Clark watched that distant figure for a long time. The light grew gradually brighter, but neither of them made a move.

The sun was coming up soon. When it slipped past the horizon, he'd make a decision, one way or another.

But for now, he was content to stand by the window in the home Lex had created for him. He was content to watch the man who he'd loved more than any other in the Earth, to see him holding the symbol of that love and have hope shining in his gray eyes that always seemed darker when he was wearing that particular dark suit. He was content to spend just a few more moments being perfectly, peacefully in love.

And then dawn came.

And Clark chose.


End file.
